This Mess We're In
by nothing-rhymes-with-ianto
Summary: Prequel to Boys Keep Swinging. Justin is in New York, the girls and Gus are in Canada, and Brian is stuck in Pittsburgh. Things get complicated when the girls get territorial and other things occur both in Pittsburgh and out that Brian has to deal with.
1. Chapter 1

**Look! Here it is! Finally! So I know in Boys Keep Swinging I said that Brian and Justin hadn't seen much of each other in 3 years. I'm changing that statement, because Justin comes to visit quite a lot in this prequel. Also, updates will be pretty slow because college is taking over my life. This chapter is mostly Brian.**

* * *

When Brian left the ruined skeleton of Babylon the day after Justin left, he should have felt rejuvenated, should have felt a renewed sense of hope and rush of power and a wave of anticipation at the chances he had to rebuild and refresh. Instead, he just felt obligated. Obligated to rebuild the club, to stay friends with Mikey ("since we were fourteen"), to uphold the club stud reputation he held so dear yet found less and less satisfaction from.

Michael's 'some things aren't meant to change' speech back in the club had saddened him. Though his friend had been talking about the club, about how the beat shouldn't change, shouldn't stop, he couldn't help but feel that Michael was talking about him, too. But he didn't believe that. Because he felt like he _had_ changed. He had changed a lot. And he wondered if Michael could see it.

He wondered if Michael could see the weariness in his eyes when he had hugged him and thanked him for bringing him to the blown-out club. He already felt the emptiness of Justin's presence like a suffocating cloud. He plodded back to the 'Vette and got in, but did not drive to the loft. Instead, he drove in circles around Pittsburgh, aimlessly roaming through the streets, a strange feeling in his belly making him restless. He was torn; he didn't know whether he wanted to run and never stop, or curl up into a ball and never move from his bed. He drove back home when he realized that his mind was absolutely not on the road, and he'd probably kill himself or someone else driving like this.

Justin called him an hour later, and he rolled over onto the phone twice in his half-awake state before he answered properly.

"'Lo?" he winced as his voice cracked a little. From sleep, obviously.

"Brian." Justin's voice was soft, full of something like sympathy.

"Hey Sunshine, did you get to New York okay?"

"Yeah, I did. New York is totally different than I remember it."

"You were there for a day, Justin. And you spent it in a hotel room on my money."

"Yeah, yeah. Daph's friend is really nice. Her name's Laura." Brian was absurdly glad that Daphne's friend wasn't a guy. "She's totally cool. She's not an artist, she's a philosophy major; she wants to be an English teacher. You should come up here, I told her about you and now she really wants to meet you. She's also heard quite a lot about us from Daphne. She wants to see the legendary Brian Kinney." His voice grew quieter suddenly. "I miss you already, Brian."

Brian's heart clenched. "I know. But you're going to have so much fun in New York, you're gonna be so busy, you're not even going to think about missing me."

He heard Justin's dry chuckle over the phone. "Uh huh. Sure."

Brian sighed a little. "I should get going. Let you get settled." He didn't want to keep Justin from his new adventures.

"Brian—"

"Take care of yourself, Sunshine." He closed his phone and dropped it back on his pillow.

* * *

"Hey!" Ben leaned over from the table to kiss Michael as he passed. "Where'd you go?"

"I went to see Brian. I thought he'd like some company."

"Mm. How's he doing?"

"He's sad, but he's doing better than I expected."

Ben resisted the urge to shake his head. He knew Brian was a very stoic man, that he bounced back from things quickly, but he knew for a fact that this was hurting Brian greatly, and he was trying his best to keep his emotions from his friends.

"Babylon looks awful. I wonder how Brian's going to fix it all up."

"You went to Babylon?"

"Yeah. I wanted to talk to Brian about something. That seemed like the best place. It looks like shit, though. It's gonna cost a fortune to clean it up and get it running again."

"Are you sure Brian's going to do that?" Ben wondered if it was even a good idea to rebuild a place where so many lives had been lost or shattered, where memories of fear had overtaken memories of conversation and dancing and drinking and fun.

Michael was nodding vigorously. "We grew up in there, Ben. It's his life, his history. He'll rebuild it. I know he will."

* * *

Brian woke up the next morning at eight o'clock. He groaned and picked up his phone, infinitely grateful that he was the boss. He called Cynthia and told her that he wouldn't be in today, then he flipped over to lie on his right side and went back to sleep.

He dreamed of a night just after he had lost (almost) everything in his battle against Stockwell. He and Justin were hungry, but Brian had wanted to stay in and Justin wanted to go out. They compromised, with Justin going out to the store to get whatever he wanted, Brian having made him promise that he was going to make food for both of them. Justin had rolled his eyes and pretended like cooking dinner was something he didn't want to do.

He'd come back with a bunch of food from the gourmet store, sourdough French bread and cheese and wine and asparagus and a whole slew of other things. He cooked it as Brian flopped on a floor pillow and flipped through magazines to get ideas for the business he was planning to start up. There was no dining room table, so they ate on the floor.

He was munching on a piece of asparagus when Justin started to smile, then giggle around the mass of bread in his mouth.

"What?" He'd asked.

Justin smiled wider. "We're having a picnic on the floor."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"You're eating something I cooked in a picnic on the floor." Justin sing-songed, grinning.

Brian rolled his eyes dramatically, but realized that he could say nothing about this. He was willingly eating on the floor because there was no table, and he was grateful for Justin's presence, to say the least. Instead, he flicked Justin's chin, muttering "Twat."

They ate in pleasant silence, and when they were done, Brian pushed the food away and tugged Justin close, and they made out like teenagers for a long time before retiring to the bed to fuck.

Brian woke to gentle knocking on his front door. He groaned, stretched, then sat up and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and shuffled over to the door. Jennifer greeted him on the other side, her face a little more haggard, a little sadder than usual. She held up a paper bag.

"I brought muffins. How are you?"

He stepped aside and let her in. "Probably the same as you."

"I feel like shit."

"Bingo."

She pulled out a zucchini muffin for herself and began to spread cream cheese on it from the plastic container. Brian snagged a blueberry muffin and chewed as they both silently regarded the tabletop.

"I underestimated how much I'd miss him." Jennifer said with a small sigh. "I mean, I barely saw him these past few years, and already I miss him like crazy. I can't even begin to imagine how you feel."

"It sucks. But sometimes you have to let go of something you love."

"I never could understand some of the things between you two. I'm going to miss hearing Justin try to explain your relationship to me. The only thing I ever really understood was that you loved him. A lot."

"Everyone seemed to realize that before I did."

"Yeah, well."

Brian sighed, and wandered away from the kitchen to the sofa, which he flopped down on, closing his eyes. He sensed Jenn come over and perch on the Barcelona chair. Brian sighed.

"It hurts like a sonofabitch. I remember when he was with the fiddler. All I could think about was him. I fucked every guy I could find and they all turned into him. It was ridiculous. I was fucking desperate and it killed me. There was this dark _je ne sais quoi_ that just left me hanging. It's like that, but fifty times worse."

"I know I'm his mother, Brian, but I know what it's like. You can talk to me."

"I am talking to you." They both huffed small laughs, breathy and sad in the heavy air. He sat up, shifting, and she joined him on the couch.

"I miss him. I hate having to let him go. I hate waking up and not having him hear, not hearing his voice every day. I wish he'd stay but…." Jennifer cocked an eyebrow at him. She knew there was something there.

"Listen, Mother Taylor. It's like this. Everything I do backfires. I'm a kind and…loving person. It's hard to believe, but I am. I just….every time I try to do something…I fuck it up. Or it backfires on me and I get blamed for shit I didn't really do. I don't want this to backfire for him. But I already feel like it's fucked me over."

She patted his shoulder. "He loves you, Brian. Know that. He misses you, too."

"I know. And I let him leave. It's just…"

"It's just…?"

"I feel like such a motherfucking hypocrite. I'm always a hypocrite."

"Why?"

"I told him I didn't want to live with someone who sacrificed his life and called it love, but…"

"But you sacrificed your life to let him go to New York and build his dream." She finished for him. He nodded morosely.

"It feels really fucking weird to be alone after five years."

"You're not alone."

"I am, more than I was before he came into my life." He paused, remembering that fateful night, remembering nights and days before it, meaningless and menial. "Before I met him, I wasn't really happy." Brian chuckled a little. "You know, I didn't actually realize that until he started living with me after that fucker kicked him out?" 'That fucker' was Craig. "Anyway, I never really liked living alone. I mean, was never here by myself. I was always at work or with the boys or with a trick or at Babylon or something. I was only here alone to sleep or work on something. I was fucking sad and pathetic and lonely and I didn't even know it. I can't believe I'm saying this to you."

"I know. It's all right. You know I won't tell anyone."

"And then Justin came along and changed everything. He named Gus. He was the first guy I fucked more than once in a long time. He was so persistent. Much as I pretended to hate him, I think I really liked him a lot that first night. He was adorably innocent. It was almost funny if I hadn't been high out of my head." He rubbed his forehead. "And then he stuck around and I fucking fell in love. And I didn't know it, but what the hell, we all know it was already true. I loved him practically from the start. And I mean, hell, I'm a completely different person than I was back then. And I think I realize that if I hadn't noticed him under that streetlamp, I'd be the same guy I was five years ago, sad and lonely without even knowing it."

"It's true. You have changed."

"Everyone fucking knows it except Michael. He took me to Babylon last night and told me some things aren't meant to change. He doesn't know I haven't been that guy for at least five years. Sort of."

"Hmm?"

Brian sighed. "It's like I said. Every time I try to do something good, it backfires. Every time. I guess it's karma, cause I'm such a shit. I meet Justin, he names my kid and turns my life upside down, and then his father kicks the shit out of me and kicks him out of the house. I try to give him a happy prom, he gets fucking…smashed in the head." He took a deep breath and Jennifer was silent, giving him time to push the memories away. "I give him his space and he leaves me. He comes back and I try to love him the way he wants at least partially and he joins that motherfucking club and scares the shit out of me patrolling the streets. Then things start to get better and I get fucking cancer. I let him move to LA and he comes back when I thought…thought he was never gonna come back and then he leaves me anyway. I let him go and Babylon gets blown up. I ask him to marry me, and he leaves, to New York. To his dream. It's fucking karma, all this shit."

"That's not true."

"Right. Prove it."

"He would have never survived if it weren't for you. He wouldn't be who he was today. You wouldn't be who you are today without him. You love each other, in a way that is nearly impossible for most people to even dream of. You've each saved the other's life countless times. He adores you more than I can possibly say. And I know you love him, maybe more than anything, more than anyone. I can see it in your eyes." Brian ducked his head.

"Thanks, Mother Taylor."

"No need."

Brian drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch, rubbed a hand across his mouth, pinched at the corners of his eyes.

"Fuck. I wanted him to stay." The miserable words were barely audible as they passed his lips, spoken to the arm of the couch.

Jennifer looked up with sympathetic eyes. "I miss him too, Brian. I love him too."

He sighed. "I know." Their fingers entwined and they stared out of Brian's large windows toward the horizon. "But it's different."

"I know."

* * *

Emmett gave a bouncy little clap and a smile, nearly toppling his milkshake onto his friend's lap.

"So you two talked…well? Spill! What happened?"

Ted huffed an amused sigh. "We talked. We went back to his hotel room and we talked about getting back together. He and I agreed that ever since we split up, no one else really felt _right_, you know? So we're going to give it another try. We're actually going to try the whole dating thing."

"Oh, I hope this one works out, Teddy."

"I think it will."

They ate in comfortable silence, until Emmett sighed.

"What?"

"Just thinking about Brian. He doesn't seem to be taking Justin and the girls' moves very well. I hope he'll be okay."

"Oh, he'll survive, like he always does." Ted reassured him, going back to his lunch. On the inside, though, he wasn't so sure. He and Brian had become pretty close—well as close as one can get to someone like Brian Kinney—in the last year or so. He knew now that Brian would be a bitch to work with, and that he and Cynthia would probably have to work extra hard to keep him calm and to prevent him from firing every employee. He knew Brian would be suffering, and would take it out on everyone around him.

He just hoped it wouldn't last too long.

* * *

"So, um, Laura? I don't know how to get anywhere…"

"Huh?" The redhead (dyed, of course) looked up from her books, shaking her head as if to clear it, and grinned up at Justin. "Oh, yeah! I should probably show you around. And introduce you to a few friends."

"Thanks."

"Oh, no problem. Just lemme shower and we can get going when I'm done." She skipped off to the bathroom, which reminded Justin uncannily of Daphne.

He doodled a few tiny sketches of Brian's various body parts while he waited for Laura to be done. Justin hadn't stopped thinking about his lover since he'd called Brian the other night and Brian had essentially hung up on him. He knew Brian was trying to push him to follow his dream, but he didn't know how to stop Brian from pushing him away.

"So, what do you want to see?" Laura's voice jarred him from his thoughts. She stepped in front of him, tying her hair into a bun as she talked. "I can show you all the best spots to hang out. Or I can show you all the important places to know. Or…where a lot of the best art galleries are. I'm sure you'll want to know that. Or where there are good restaurants. Daphne said you like to eat a lot. Which is amazing considering how damn skinny you are. So what do you want to do?"

"Just-just show me everything. I want to see everything."

"Okay!" She yanked on a pair of beat up bohemian-looking sneakers and grabbed her backpack. "Let's go."

He followed her outside to her car and she began to show him around. Most of his brain was concentrating on learning the streets, where everything was, what was good and bad, where there might be some good places to go. But another part of his brain was fixated on Brian. He couldn't get the look on Brian's face, the agony in his expression as they made love for what Brian probably thought was the last time, out of his head. Justin's eyes had been closed, but he knew he'd felt Brian's tears fall on his cheeks, and he remembered the way his eyes begged him to stay even when his body and mouth said go. He knew Brian thought they were over. _Well,_ Justin thought, _I'll just prove to him that he is completely and utterly wrong._


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is kind of full of dialogue. It's also really short. Sorry about these first few chapters. They're mostly just buildup and exposition blah blah. Stuff is actually going to happen in the next chapter! It's about a quarter of the way done. Also, I'm kinda cramming three years into not a billion chapters, so if months go by or whatever really fast, dont be confused.**

* * *

Within the first week or so of living with Laura, it had become apparent that Justin would need to find a studio. The apartment consisted of two tiny rooms that passed for bedrooms if you squinted, a little kitchen/living room/dining room/whatever area that was cluttered with both of their stuff, and a bathroom. There was no room for his computer, much less his paints and other art supplies.

So he began to look for a studio, agent, everything at once. Laura had told him to just be on the lookout for anything at all. That's the way New York worked. If they saw you, liked you, wanted you, you had to be ready and willing, because they weren't going to wait for you.

Justin made a goal for himself: once he'd found a studio or an agent, he'd go home and visit Brian, because then he'd have one small accomplishment to gloat about and Brian would be satisfied. He just hoped it would happen soon, because it had been two weeks and he was already missing Brian like crazy, and he wasn't going to let his lover push him away this time. He began to pound the pavement, scour the papers and posts for notices, sometimes with Laura, sometimes on his own. He _would_ make this happen. He had to.

* * *

Emmett watched Michael and Brian as they ate silently across from one another, tension and awkwardness in the air. Emmett knew this would happen. The two friends' reconciliation was entirely based upon the fact that Brian had been about to get married, about to become "equal" to Michael. Their other issues, the real one, had not been resolved.

Brian obviously had something on his mind, of course he wasn't going to say anything out loud, and being aware of his best friend's moods and problems had never been Michael's strong point.

"So how's Justin?" Michael asked now, in a lame and misguided attempt at conversation. Emmett winced. He knew Brian had not talked to Justin in almost two weeks. He'd been moping for about that long, though it didn't seem like it to the untrained eye. He talked and bitched and acted just like Brian Kinney usually did, but he wasn't concentrated on it. He wasn't as focused, as honed as usual. His mind was far away, thinking of other things. And Emmett, who had always been the quiet observer, noticed these things but said nothing. He'd always been the type to wait for the opportune moment.

"How should I know?" Brian answered, frowning, hackles raised.

"He's your boyfriend. You talk to him, don't you?"

"He's in New York, Mikey. He doesn't have time to talk."

Emmett scoffed inwardly. It was Brian that wasn't talking. But he also felt sorry for his friend because beneath the annoyance, Emmett could hear the continuation of that last sentence—"not with someone, some asshole like me, anyway." And he knew Brian's masochistic, self-deprecating side believed it to be true.

"Don't you call him or something? You _were _going to get married, you know. He already knows you love him. You don't have to ignore him."

Brian stood, dropping a twenty onto the counter and picking up his jacket. He glared down at Michael.

"No, I do not call him. He's living his dream up there in the big city. He doesn't need me or the Pitts dragging him down. Now, if you boys will excuse me, I have to get to work."

He patted Emmett's shoulder as he passed, a small Kinney gesture that meant Brian wasn't mad at him, just his stupid best friend. Michael watched him leave.

"He's not talking to Justin? What the hell? The idiot." Michael started to stand. "Ma'll put a stop to his asshole moves in a second."

Emmet reached up a hand and slowly pulled Michael back down.

"Leave it alone, Michael. Just leave it."

* * *

Brian was at Kinnetic when the girls finally called.

"Kinney."

"Hi, Brian."

Brian put his pen down and turned his chair around. "Hey, Lindz. How's Canada? Why didn't you call me sooner?"

"We've been unpacking."

"For almost two weeks?"

"Moving is hard work. We were in a hotel for a while, while the house was getting set up. Then we had to move all our stuff in and unpack. It takes a long time."

"How's my son?"

"He's doing well. You should come up to visit soon." Brian tapped his fingers against his leg.

"I want to."

"You will."

"I want him to know who I am."

"He will. Have you talked to Justin?"

Brian sighed. "Not really."

"You should."

"He doesn't need me. He shouldn't let the Pitts drag him down."

"He may not need you, Brian, but he loves you. He wants you with him."

"Yeah, well, he shouldn't. I'm not good for him."

"Brian Kinney! This again? Get over yourself. You are the best thing that ever happened to each other. Stop with the self-pitying bullshit already. Talk to your partner."

"I can always count on you to chew me a new one, Lindz."

"Yeah, well, let's just see if what I said stays in your thick, obnoxious skull this time."

"Thanks for looking out for me, Wendy."

"You're welcome, Peter."

"Later."

"Later, Brian."

* * *

"Have a good afternoon, Dillon." Michael called to one of his frequent customers as the boy left the shop. He glanced at the large cardboard cutout of Rage and sighed. He had no idea if Rage was going to continue. He and Justin hadn't discussed it, and he was pretty sure that Justin wouldn't want to talk about it now that Brian wasn't talking to him, now that he would be writing a comic book about someone in a completely different state. He knew Brian was a pig-headed asshole that would never change, but this seemed stubborn even for him. Maybe it was because he and Justin weren't really a couple; now that they weren't getting married, they would go right back to their on again-off again, always tricking _thing_ that they had.

The phone rang shrilly. "Red Cape Comics, Michael Novotny, how may I help you?"

"That is the most polite way I've ever heard you answer a telephone, Michael."

"Oh, hi, Mel. I was wondering when you'd call again."

"Well, we called you when we got here, didn't we?"

"Yeah, but…"

"Oh, Novotny, come on."

Michael laughed. "All right, but you can't blame me, it's in my blood."

"I know that."

"So, we just wanted to invite you to come visit. Because I know you won't shut up about visiting until we ask you to come." She joked, softening the blow with a laugh.

"Oh believe me, I will be visiting. What about Brian? Did you ask him?"

"Yeah, he said he wanted to. Which I think means maybe."

"Oh."

"Mm hmm. Well, Jenny Rebecca has begun her daily awake-from-a-nap screaming ritual, so I have to go." Michael could hear wails through the speaker and smiled at the sounds of his daughter.

"Give her a kiss for me."

"Will do. Bye, Michael."

"See you." They clicked off and he looked again at the cutout of Rage.

Not for the first time, Michael wondered how involved in his son's life Brian would be. He knew that Brian had not been very involved before the girls had moved, and that he'd always been more of a drop-in dad with quick visits, throwing money at problems when they arose. But maybe now that the girls weren't with in a ten-minute car ride, he'd make a bigger effort to go see his son…

Who was Michael kidding? Brian was a busy ad man with two businesses to run. He'd probably never go up to see his son.

* * *

Every time Justin called the loft, Brian's machine would pick up. "I'm not here, leave a message" became Justin's only chance at hearing his stubborn lover's voice. Sometimes he'd leave a random, rambling message just to piss Brian off and force him to hear the sound of his voice, sometimes he would just hang up. Justin knew Brian was trying to push him away, and he was slowly forming a plan to counteract that, but all he could do right now was annoy the shit out of the ad man with voicemails full of excitement and love.

It was nearly a month after he'd gotten to New York that he finally found a job. Laura had been incredibly kind about his practically freeloading for all that time, saying that she understood what it was like to be a starving student from Pittsburgh in big bad New York City. He had searched up and down, checking restaurants and grocery stores, art galleries and framing stores, or just whatever storefront he happened upon. Finally, he came across a little Italian restaurant, brimming with people, loud and colourful and bright like the Diner back home. To his great delight, there was a HELP WANTED sign placed at a slightly hectic angle in the window. He stepped inside and went to the counter.

"Hello, _carino_, what can I get you?" A plump woman with dark brown hair wrapped into a messy bun grinned at him, her wide eyes twinkling. He noticed her bright yellow Tweety Bird earrings and matching bright yellow t-shirt with bespectacled Tweety proclaiming, 'Get yer nerd on.' A yellow daisy was beginning to fall out of the twist of hair in the back of her head.

"There's a help wanted sign outside and I was wondering if you had a job open."

"Sure, what's your experience?"

"When I lived in Pittsburgh I waited in a diner for about four years. On and off but mostly on."

"_Benissimo_! Do you know Italian?"

"Not a word."

"Well, you'll learn some. We don't speak it all the time, but you'll hear it often enough."

"Sounds good to me. I'm always up for something new."

"Fine boy! When can you start?"

"When do you want me?"

She laughed and flipped a strand of hair behind her ear. "Excellent! How about today? In about two hours? I'll introduce you to everybody when you get here and then we can get started."

"Thank you so much! Um, I hate to ask but, how much will you pay me?"

"How does nine dollars an hour sound?"

"Wow, really? Thank you!"

She waved away his thanks with a plastic ring-jeweled hand. "Hey, no problem. People are afraid of working in this place. It's too loud and busy for them."

"That's the way I like it. I'm Justin, by the way. Justin Taylor." He stuck out his hand and she shook it.

"_Piacere_, Justin Taylor. I'm Feliciana but you can just call me Fi, or Fifi. Or Mama, if you like."

"Thanks. What's _piacere_?"

"Oh, your first Italian word! It means 'pleasure,' it's like saying 'pleased to meet you.'"

"Well, then, _piacere_, Feliciana. Fi."

"So I'll see you in a couple of hours?"

"Of course. Again, thank you."

"You're very welcome. Ciao, _carino_."

"See you later."

He walked home with a new spring in his step and a smile on his face, glad to have found a surrogate diner and someone who seemed almost as loud and crazy as Debbie. He called Brian when he got back to Laura's. Brian, of course, did not pick up, but Justin was too excited to be brought down by the absence of his non-recorded voice.

* * *

Justin's newest voice message chased itself around in Brian's head for days. The young man had gotten a job—he was settling, and that scared Brian. Not that he'd ever admit it, to himself or anyone else. But even as he began to push Justin away, some secret, hidden part of him wanted so badly for Justin to call his bluff and come home. But he couldn't have that, he knew. Justin had to make it on his own in the Big City. It was his dream, his destiny.

Brian sighed and tried again to focus on his work, but he couldn't help thinking of the woman Justin had described, who seemed like a surrogate Debbie, grinning at his lover and taking him away to stay in NYC forever. It was a ridiculous notion, he knew. Justin still loved him and he still loved Justin. But things were different now. Justin had a dream to follow and a destiny to fulfill, a future filled with success. Brian's dream of success had come true long ago; he was stuck in Pittsburgh with his greatness. Now he just had a dim glimmer of hope that Justin would keep them in his mind and would one day return to the Pitts for good. That he would one day come home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Holy crap finally. I'm sorry this took so long. I'm on my college's magazine, and all my writing power has gone into my (finally, almost finished) article about GLBT students and college. Now here's Brian and Justin and all their stuff. This one is super long and does have quite a bit of dialogue. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Someone's here to see you." Cynthia announced at eight-thirty in the morning, then turned and exited the doorway without further explanation. Brian rolled his eyes. What a great assistant he had. A second later, a pensive-looking Daphne entered, carrying a newspaper.

"Why, Doctor Chanders, you're looking particularly stunning today."

"Don't inflate my ego more than it is, Brian. I'm not a doctor yet. Just a student intern." Brian grinned. Daphne gestured to the paper in her hand. "Did you see the news? Someone died last night."

"Well, I know that death is usually a tragic and news-worthy occurrence that is generally disliked, but someone dies every day. Why should I care?"

"You should know better than to say that to a doctor."

"You said you weren't a doctor."

"Oh, shut up. Anyway, what I came here to tell you. Remember that Pink Posse thing that Justin was in?"

Brian's expression darkened, his hand clenching involuntarily. "Yeah, I remember." He growled.

"That asshole Cody the one who started that shit, he was killed yesterday evening."

"How?"

"I guess he's been doing that anti-hetero vigilante stuff by himself since then, threatening people and waving guns around and things. Anyways, apparently he started in on this guy who had called someone a faggot for bumping into him on the street and making him spill his coffee."

"Typical city dweller straight guy."

"Right. And Cody cornered the guy in the parking lot and started yelling at him. He pulled his gun and the man had one of his own in his jacket. Cody was slower than the guy he'd picked out to harass. Thing is, it's perfectly legal. The man was acting in self defense and his gun was licensed and registered to him. Cody was just being a dick and the gun was his dad's. So there's almost no case."

"Wow. Fitting end for our violent friend. Have you told Justin?"

"No, I just found out. A friend of mine on the night shift was one of the responding paramedics. I was going to leave that job to you, anyway."

"All right. Thanks for telling me about it."

"No problem. And, um, how are you doing? He says you're not talking to him, not for almost two months. He misses you."

Brian grimaced. "I…guess…I miss him to. But, he needs to concentrate on settling in, getting his stuff done, becoming a success. He doesn't need me to distract him."

"That is such bullshit, Brian. Call him. Talk to him."

"Hmmm."

Daphne seemed to know that was the end of that conversation. She stepped over and kissed him on the cheek, squeezed his shoulder. He eyed her.

"If you ever want to hang out with a fag hag or just want to stop being an asshole for a little while, call me up." She smiled to take the sting out of her words, her eyes soft.

He nodded once and she smiled gently at him before leaving the room. Brian let this new information sink in. Cody. He hadn't thought about Justin's days with the Pink Posse in a long time.

He remembered Justin's anger, the frightening intensity brought on by pent up fear and hurt from the bashing, pushed down and down for so long and then pulled back up and transformed into rage by Cody's manipulations. He remembered his own paralyzing fear, night after night, waiting for Justin to come home to him, cold worry in his gut, hoping with everything he had that the phone would not ring to tell him something he'd never, ever want to hear.

He remembered the night Justin had come home stone-faced and shaking, stood in the doorway and told him it was over. When Brian had moved to embrace him, Justin had held up his hands and backed away.

"I nearly killed Hobbes tonight." His voice would have sounded flat and unaffected to anyone else, but Brian could hear the overload of emotion. His heart had jumped into his throat at the dreaded name, but he just looked curiously at Justin. "Cody and I waited outside his house 'til he got home. I wanted him to apologize. He wouldn't. Said I was going to get AIDS and die, all that usual shit. He started to walk away. Cody handed me a gun. I put it in Hobbes' mouth and made him apologize. I…I…it was loaded. Fucking loaded. And I wanted to, Brian. You have no idea how much I wanted to. But I didn't. I couldn't."

They had clutched at each other, then, Justin grasping and trembling but not crying. Brian hadn't said so, but he knew exactly how much Justin wanted to kill Chris Hobbes. He remembered the same feeling of anger and hatred from the days just after the bashing. He knew.

Now he stared absently at the papers on his desk. He blinked and looked at the phone, a deep frown creasing his features. Then he took a deep, shaking breath and picked up the receiver.

* * *

Justin was on break at _Il Pomodoro Sorridente_ when his cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. Brian. He frowned. Brian wouldn't be calling unless it was something really important. Or if their friends had managed to convince him to stop being asshole, but Justin highly doubted the latter.

"Brian, hi."

"Justin." Brian's voice was tense, tight. It was the first time Justin had heard his lover's voice in over a month, and the tension unnerved him.

"Brian, why are you calling? Is everyone okay? Are you okay?" For a moment, Justin felt hysterical.

"Everyone's fine, Justin." Brian's voice was still tight. He'd called him 'Justin.' "But, um, remember that asshole from your stupid vigilante group—"

"Cody?"

"Yeah, Cody. He's dead."

Something cold gripped Justin's heart, but it wasn't sadness. "How?"

"Seems he was running around playing vigilante boy even after you had the sense to leave. He pulled a gun on some civilian with an actual gun license and a steady hand. Apparently your little friend wasn't the sharpshooter he thought he was."

For a moment there was silence, just Brian and Justin breathing on opposite sides of the line.

"Brian?" Justin's voice was soft, a whisper. He felt very small, suddenly. The realization that that could have been him had he stayed with Cody longer hit him hard all over again. "Brian, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for scaring you back then."

"It's okay. It's what you had to do. And no apologies, remember?"

"Uh huh." Justin sighed. Brian's voice had softened and Justin felt a little happy now.

"Are you going to be all right, Sunshine?"

Justin smiled at the familiar nickname, inhaled deeply and steadied himself "Yeah. I'm good. I have Fi or Laura if I really need to talk to someone."

"Good. I have to get back to work, and I'm sure you do, too."

"Uh huh. Later."

"Later, Sunshine."

Justin closed his cell phone and sighed again. Cody was dead. He let that information sink in. After he had gone off the deep end and held a gun to Hobbes' head, after he'd come home to Brian and had time to think about his recent insanity he'd realized that he or Cody could have died during any of their stupid forays into queer revolution. He'd realized they could have taken on someone with a gun, a knife, a black belt in jujitsu or something. Someone far stronger and more violent than either of them Or at least than Justin.

He'd also realized, once he was clear-headed, that Cody probably would have left him to die or be severely injured if any of their victims had begun to really fight back. The night after those revelations, he'd rolled over to Brian in the night and pulled him close, closer, tangling their limbs together and clutching at Brian's back. Brian had held him close, his strong hands gripping just a little too hard, belying the indifference he'd shown during those weeks when Justin was away.

Now Justin wondered, not for the first time, why he'd ever felt power during that time. Yeah, now he knew how to fight back if he ever got into a sticky situation, but that was the only good that had come of it. He realized now that he hadn't looked like anything but a silly kid playing at being tough. Cody, with his shaved head, looked like what he was—a violent skinhead teenager with an inflated sense of hatred toward everything because of his childhood, a ruthless bastard who'd kill or hurt anything if it would benefit his furious idea of a cause. Justin had looked…like a child. Shaving his head had simply accentuated the clean, fragile lines of his smooth skull. Once his hair was gone, underneath was the clean lines of a easily-breakable mass of bone, graceful and sleek, but a small white scar stood out just above and in front of his temple, a testament to what those bones had already been through, evidence of the extreme fragility and proof that he was a victim.

Justin let out a long, cathartic sigh. That was a long time ago. He'd done what he'd needed to do: he'd faced Hobbes. That was over now. If Cody was dead, he probably deserved it. The bastard would've ended up in jail anyway. He crushed his cigarette under his foot and headed back inside.

* * *

Sitting on an ugly blue stool at the counter of his shop, Michael read the same comic book page over and over again, his mind absolutely not on it. Brian had not treated him too kindly for months. Michael remembered that before the bombing, they'd been having the biggest fight of their entire friendship, but afterward, Brian had apologized. He'd been at fault and he'd apologized. He couldn't still be mad at Michael, could he? Maybe he was.

The bell on the door jingled and he looked up from staring contemplatively at his hands resting on the countertop. Ben smiled lovingly at him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just thinking."

"Okay," he held up a bag. "I brought sandwiches for lunch. It's a furlough day today. Only the teachers came in and only for half a day. Damn budget cuts." He held a wrapped bundle out to Michael, who took the proffered sandwich.

Ben watched his husband as he began to absently eat his lunch. He was pretty certain Michael had been thinking of Brian. He'd had his 'thinking about Brian' face on quite a bit lately. It was times like this when he wondered in frustration—against his Zen morals and better judgment—why he put up with this love-bordering-on-dependency-bordering-on-obsession Michael had for his best friend.

But then he'd seen an empty-looking Brian at the Diner or Woody's or Deb's without Justin and he'd remember. Justin and Michael were the two people Brian Kinney depended on most—and one half of that equation was gone.

Though, he realized as he thought about it again, he wasn't entirely sure the second half was totally welcome either. He'd noticed the distinct lack of really making up and _talking_ about their friendship. This seemed to be the way Brian was- no words, only nearly inscrutable actions. And he guessed that was what Michael was thinking about—whether or not Brian still liked him, still wanted him around, still trusted him. Because there hadn't been much talk between them since Justin let. Brian was generally being pretty antisocial.

But he really didn't want to think about Brian. He liked Brian, he understood Brian, he knew why Brian was acting this way, but he didn't want the man to take up his thoughts, the way they did Michael's. He needed to find some way to distract his partner.

* * *

Emmett's phone trilled happily, the sounds of RuPaul filling the air. He plucked it off of Debbie's kitchen table and flipped it open, continuing to flick through the menu of his current wedding, trying to search out any mistakes or recipes that 'didn't fit'.

"Yes, hello?"

"Hey, Emmett," a voice drawled through the speaker. Emmett smiled.

"Calvin, hey."

"You plannin' anything tonight?"

"Not at all. Did you have something in mind?"

"How about you and me goin' out to dinner? And maybe a little, um, _dessert_ afterward?"

Emmett smiled. He had been sad after letting Drew go, but finding Calvin had swung his moods upward and he was incredibly happy once more. "Well, of course. I'll always have time for dinner. And there's _always_ room for dessert."

"Good, where do you want to go?"

"Your choice. In fact, surprise me."

"I will. See you tonight."

"See you, Calvin."

He hung up with a smile. When he looked up, Debbie was standing in front of the table, grinning at him, her bright red lipstick making her excited leer look even more enthusiastic.

"You got a date, Em?"

"Yeah, tonight."

"Oh, Honey, I'm so happy!" she kissed his cheek and grinned, neglecting to wipe off the red imprint of lips now on his cheek.

"Thanks, Deb."

"Now Carl and I can have the house to ourselves for once." She joked. Emmett rolled his eyes. She made a kissy face at him and he smirked and made one back.

* * *

"Well, here we are again."

Ted chuckled and looked around him. "Eating cookies and drinking milk in my kitchen?"

"Remember the last time we were doing this?" Blake gestured at him with half of his chocolate chip cookie.

"We were eating cookies from Mel and Linds. And I got the job at Rigoletto's. God, that ridiculous restaurant."

Blake laughed. "Still, you were a good singer."

"I'm a better accountant than a Pavarotti."

"Thanks to Brian."

"Always thanks to Brian. And you, of course, for getting me out of rehab."

"Ted…"

"No, seriously. If you weren't there, I would never have worked as hard to impress you and get out on my own." He leaned in and kissed his lover on the cheek. Blake took his hand and led him to the couch, turning just for a moment so he could turn La Traviata on.

"I wouldn't have become who I am today if you hadn't believed in me all those years ago, Ted." He sat down beside Ted, who laced their fingers together and pulled Blake close.

"You know, after we stopped seeing each other, I always felt like something was missing. I dated plenty of other guys, but they never really connected. I felt like I had found the perfect something, and then lost it. And really, I wasn't sure who that was. And then we met at the gay ski week…and it was like everything clicked into place."

"I know exactly what you mean."

* * *

Justin was thankful that Fifi wasn't as nosy as Debbie; she'd noticed that Justin was shaken, disturbed, but had not butted in or asked him anything, though she had been a little sweeter and more subdued when talking to him, and gave him a gentle hug when he got off.

Justin walked home with his time in the Posse in the forefront of his mind. E could remember the weight of the gun, the sting and jolt of punching someone. He felt a sudden irrational fear for himself. He could feel the pressing closeness of the crowded streets. By the time he got back to the apartment, he was panting. Laura was not home, and locked himself in his room.

Curled in a ball on his bed, he shivered. He hated this. He hated always feeling like a victim. It made him angry. He'd put this behind him with his confrontation with Hobbes, he shouldn't be feeling like this. He got up and went into the living room area. He needed noise, something to take his mind off things. He sat down to watch That 70's Show reruns.

He was running, running in the dark, he could feel the wind rushing past his closely shaved head. Cody's voice echoed around him, yelling at him. He could feel Hobbes' snarl of "Taylor!" Something was chasing him, but he couldn't see who, he couldn't see anything. "Justin!" something yelled angrily.

"Justin!" A face appeared in front of him and he struck out at it. "Shit! Justin, wake up. It's me!"

Justin's eyes flew open, his head clearing slowly. Laura was crouched beside him, rubbing the left side of her face, which was already a little red.

"Shit! Laura! Are you okay? I'm so sorry."

"It'll take more than a fist to the face to bring me down. Are you alright? You were having a nightmare."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I got some information today that wasn't great. I guess I'm a little stressed out."

"A little? You punched me in the face." She rubbed her cheek again.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm worried about you. Even with all the work you've been doing, you haven't been this stressed."

"I know. Stuff is just going on in Pittsburgh that brought back a lot of things."

"Just, take it easy, all right?"

"I'll try."

She nodded and patted his shoulder, then gave him a smile and went back to her room. He sighed, stretched and sat up, looking blearily around for his cell phone. He found and pocketed it, then headed into his own bedroom to call Brian. He stared at his phone, unwilling and very reluctant to disturb and frighten Brian, so instead he put it back in his jeans and grabbed his backpack to head outside for a walk.

The sun was finally beginning to set, throwing golden rays of light across the buildings and the people. Justin looked around, and headed to his favourite place to sit, a bench across from a row of little mom and pop bakeries and restaurants full of delicious smells and teeming with life. Usually he would bring his sketchbook and a myriad of pencils, charcoals and watercolours, but today he just needed to sit, to be somewhere that he felt even remotely comfortable, somewhere that he didn't have to worry.

He flopped down against the warm metal of his favourite bench, breathing in the smell of freshly baked bread, kettle corn, tomato sauce and many more delicious flavours and scents of the street. He raised his face toward the dropping sun and took a big breath, eyes closed. He felt himself relax a fraction. Opening his eyes, he looked around him, and immediately tensed up again, going still, his breath quickening. A dozen or so feet away, a young man in a blue tank top, brown combat pants and a shaved head stood gesturing wildly as he argued with some acquaintance on the street.

It had been a long time since he'd had a panic attack in any form besides a sudden tenseness in his spine. Now he felt paralyzed, unable to run or attack or do anything but sit frozen on his bench, breathing quick shallow breaths of hyperventilation and looking around for somewhere, anywhere to hide. He knew what he was feeling was stupid, that his reaction was ridiculous, but the rational part of his brain was being ignored as he began to go into full panic mood. He imagined the person across the way was Cody, that he was getting ready to hurt him, to hurt his friends and his family, that he had a gun at the ready. His fingers searched numbly in his pocket for his cell phone. He pressed speed dial and held it to his ear with gripping, trembling fingers.

"Kinney," Brian answered, business-like and efficient even on his cell phone, obviously having not looked at the caller ID.

"Brian—" Justin managed to gasp out, and he practically felt Brian's attitude shift through the phone.

"Justin." Brian's voice was suddenly soft, calming but commanding. "Justin, are you listening? Justin, you're going to breath in with me, okay? Ready, one, two, three…" They breathed in together, Justin curled tightly on the bench. "Alright, Sunshine, now let it out. Breath again, one, two, three…Now let it out. Are you okay?"

"I-I will be now."

"What happened?"

"I saw someone on the street that looked like—like Cody. Brian?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you stay with me 'til I get back to the apartment?"

"Yeah, Sunshine, I will."

"Thank you. Just-just keep talking."

"I know." Brian began to talk, his voice low, telling Justin about Kinnetic, about Emmett's latest crazy clients, about Mikey's last comic book rant. Justin listened intently to the sounds on the other end of the line keeping him calm as he walked the streets back to Laura's.

He shut the door to his bedroom quickly and locked it, sighing as he sunk onto his bed. Brian had fallen silent and Justin knew that his lover was listening to his breathing slow. He put the phone down and pulled off his clothes before sliding into his bed.

"You okay, Sunshine?" Brian asked gently after Justin had picked up his phone again.

"I think I will be."

"Justin, listen. I know I should be the last person to say this, but maybe it would be good to talk about it? To talk about that time and how you felt, just get it all out?"

Justin was silent. "I don't know."

"It's okay. I'll just stay on the line until you fall asleep."

"Thank you."

For many minutes they were just there, listening to the other breathe, Justin only slightly aware of the sporadic gentle tapping of Brian on his computer. After a long while, Justin took a deep breath and began to speak.

* * *

A month and a half. That's how long it had been since Lindsay had called him. He'd called them a few times, but each instance he called, Gus was in bed, or taking a bath, or Melanie had taken him out to the park, and so on and so forth. Brian was getting frustrated. He knew that a young kid created a hectic schedule, and two even more so, but he wanted to talk to his son. He'd said that he didn't want Gus to forget him, and he meant it.

"Hello?" Lindsay's voice tumbled down the line.

"Hey, Linds, it's me."

"Oh, hello, Brian."

"How's my son? Can I speak to him?"

"He's almost done eating dinner. I'll give him the phone once he's finished."

"Okay. So, when's a good time for me to come up and visit? I was thinking in a week or two, maybe."

"Oh, Brian," Lindsay's voice was a little worried, a little sympathetic. "Mel and I talked, and we were wondering if you could postpone coming out here for a little while. Gus is still upset about coming here and he hasn't adjusted all the way yet. We were thinking you could wait until he starts school and starts making some friends before you visit, so he doesn't think you're coming here to bring him back to Pittsburgh."

Brian wanted to call bullshit, but he had to admit that Lindsay did sound very sincere and that her argument did make some sense. He didn't want his son begging him to bring him home. He wouldn't know what to say to that. So he nodded even though Lindsay couldn't see him.

"All right. But I will come up in another month to see my son. I said I don't want him to forget me. I still want to be part of his life."

"Uh huh. In a month or two, Brian. Thank you for understanding our decision."

"Can I talk to Gus?"

"Yes, he's done now."

A bit of shuffling, some clunking, scuffling noises and clinking silverware and then Gus was on.

"Hi, Daddy!"

Brian grinned at the bright voice of his son. "Hey, Sonnyboy. How do you like your new home?"

"It's kinda small. But I get a room with slant-y walls and a round window!"

"Really? That's great!"

"Yeah. But I don't know any of the other kids yet."

"You'll make friends, Sonnyboy. As soon as you go to school and meet all the kids in your class, you'll make friends."

"Really?"

"Gus, I'm sure of it."

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Sonnyboy?"

"Are you and Jus going to visit me?"

"After you start school, Gus. I promise I'll come visit you and see your room and your round window."

"Okay, Daddy. Mommy wants me to give the phone back."

"All right. Gus, listen…" he cleared his throat nervously. "I-I love you."

Gus's voice was clear and sure when he answered, "I love you too, Daddy. Here's Mommy."

More shuffling and clunking as the phone changed hands. Lindsay's voice, her words muffled as she told Gus something.

"He's taking his time getting used to living here, Brian." she said once she was on.

"I know. I just want him to be happy and safe, you know that."

"I know. So come up here in another month or two and you can see him."

"I will. Linds, I promise I will be in his life more often now. I care about him, he's my son. I want him to know his old man."

"He will."

Lindsay spoke a little about wanting to know how Justin was doing, and Brian told her that he didn't know and why didn't she call Justin and ask him herself? She said she'd do that sometime soon and advised Brian not to let Justin come back to Pittsburgh for a while, because it will make him want to come home. Brian called bullshit on that one, told her that Justin could make his own decisions, he wasn't a kid. They talked about Michael and then about Debbie, steering very clearly around the subject of the holidays. Then it was time for Gus's bath.

"Give him a kiss for me."

"Will do. Bye, Brian."

"Later."

Brian leaned back in his chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. He wanted to see his son badly, but even more than that, he didn't want to do anything that might fuck up his Gus's childhood, or make him unhappy. He didn't want Gus to grow up in any way even remotely similar to the way he had.

He sighed and thought of Justin in New York, the memories Justin had told him only a couple nights ago of the Pink Posse and his dangerous, violence-filled encounters. He hoped he was doing the right thing, for everybody.


End file.
